Motorbike Man
by weonlyliveoncesometimes
Summary: Felicity's new neighbor has a motorbike. A really loud motorbike. One he keeps in the garage below her apartment and insists on riding at stupid hours of the night when normal people, like her, are fast asleep. Is it really so unreasonable then that she hates that stupid bike and has developed a severe dislike for it's owner? (Alternate Universe)
1. Part I: Dear Motorbike Man

Okay, massive note because...well, so many explanations are needed. Starting with where I've been and I've been struggling with a massive case of Writer's Block. And it's Writer's Block across the board, not just with writing fiction. I've hit a blank with everything, including Uni work which is actually sort of frightening because if ever I've needed to be creative, it's this semester. And I just...have nothing. So, I've been studiously chipping away at everything and I'm posting two stories and two chapters to "Some People Care too Much" and, trust me, this has taken me, like six months to write all of them.

Which is ridiculous but there it is, a massive case of Writer's Block happening and I hope that I can kick it soon. Probably after this semester. Maybe.

So I'm really sorry guys!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new little story. Updates should be weekly. Hopefully. Have an assessment to get done and then one exam - which isn't too bad - and then I'm free! Until next year.

So, I hope you enjoy this little story.

* * *

 **Part I: Dear Motorbike Man**

Look, Felicity doesn't begrudge people their lives.

In fact, she quite likes the thought that people all over the world _have_ lives and by having lives, she means that she likes that fact that people go out and do things or have things or think about things that makes them happy.

These things don't have to be completely unique they can be as simple as leaving the house to get a cup of coffee from the place down the road or going to see a movie once a week or only eating mint chip ice-cream.

They're all things that aren't unique on a grand scale but to the person that shuffles out their door to wander down the street for that first sip of coffee, it's absolutely unique to them.

And Felicity _loves_ that.

She really, truly does.

When she thinks about it, it absolutely restores her faith in humanity that people go and live their lives in a way that makes things that are so impersonal be so unique to them. Felicity's pretty sure it's one of the greatest things about humans and she absolutely does _not_ begrudge any human being this.

Except her new neighbor.

Whose thing is a _motorbike_.

A very loud, very noisy motorbike that wakes her up every single night at _three in the morning_.

And, on the odd occasion she gets to sleep in, at ten o'clock in the morning when her new neighbor decides to leave.

So, Felicity likes the fact that people have their own things. She's open-minded and absolutely does not begrudge the fact that everyone has a thing that they enjoy.

Unless that thing is a stupidly loud motorbike.

Then, well, she's justified in absolutely not liking it.

At all.

The first time Felicity hears the motorbike, it startles her awake.

It's a roaring noise that she's pretty sure if she were, you know, not asleep she would have heard it from the street corner a few blocks away.

 _That's_ how loud the motorbike is.

It takes her a moment of absolute disorientation followed by an incredulous look at her clock – it's three-thirty. In the morning. Why is she even _awake_? – before she orientates herself enough to realize that the noise is from a motorbike and a spacecraft _isn't_ crashing through her living room.

It takes her another second of thinking before she remembers that Emilia Lee, the divorced forty-something librarian who used to live above her, had moved out of the apartment and in with her new partner a month ago and that the owner of the motorbike is probably the person that has leased Emilia's apartment.

An apartment that comes with a garage directly below Felicity's bedroom.

Which is something that Felicity has honestly never had to think about because Emilia was environmentally conscious and owned a Prius that didn't make sounds similar to a helicopter trying to land outside.

So, she'd never really had a reason to think about the older style design of her apartment building. One built with garages on the ground level and eight decent sized apartments evenly spaced over three levels, bordering the Glades in Starling City. Mostly because when she'd moved in to her apartment, no-one had owned a motorbike and Felicity had honestly never given credence to a hypothetical situation where someone with one would move in.

She's seriously regretting not considering that situation, right now.

Because it's three-thirty on a Sunday morning and she's _awake_ because of that stupid bike.

Felicity wrinkles her a nose a little as it suddenly occurs to her that she's not just drowsy and awake, she's awake and alert which means getting back to sleep is going to be next to impossible now.

Groaning, she makes a face at her dark ceiling and is in the process of considering moving from her bed to make herself a cup of tea when she hears the garage door clang shut followed only a few seconds later by the sound of heavy footsteps.

Seriously. It's so quiet she can hear whoever this neighbor with the motorbike's footsteps as he climbs the stairs to Emilia's apartment.

Which is just great.

Not only is their motorbike ridiculously loud, so are their footsteps.

She may as well go and make that cup of tea. She's definitely not going to go back to sleep now.

Stupid motorbike.

* * *

The second time Felicity startles awake because of the bike, she's trying to catch up on the hours of sleep she'd lost on Sunday morning.

As it turns out, having tea wasn't the best idea she'd ever had. She was pretty much awake from the time she had tea to sitting down to _Scrubs_ season one at one o'clock in the afternoon.

Felicity isn't even aware she'd dozed off, curled up and comfortable on the couch as she was, until the motorbike roared to life.

This time Felicity's not just startled awake, she jumps and lands half off her couch.

Which is an elegant motion that she hopes to never repeat because the knee that banged the floor _hurts_.

As the sound if the motorbike fades away, Felicity rests her head on a cushion and sincerely hopes that she gets used to the sound of this new motorbike.

If she doesn't, well, she can survive on _some_ sleep, right?

* * *

As it turns out, Felicity doesn't get used to the roar of the motorbike.

Like, at all.

She doesn't even know if it's because she has an overactive imagination or that she's a light sleeper or because she's decided that she hates that motorbike and she's incapable of _not_ waking up to it now.

But, like clockwork, Tuesday morning to Sunday night, Felicity's startles awake at around three-thirty, sometimes a little later, to the roar of the motorbike and finds herself either staring up at the shadows on the ceiling or getting up and sitting in her kitchen with a cup of tea until she's sleepy enough to go back to bed.

It's actually horrible.

Felicity had a _routine_ before Motorbike Man moved in – she assumes it's a man and she knows she's buying into stereotypes but…she's sleep deprived and, alliteration, okay? – and it was a good routine, one that included eight hours sleep and no motorbike noises and no sitting on her kitchen floor at four in the morning.

Now, Felicity isn't even sure how many hours of sleep she's getting a night and don't even get her started on the amount she's suddenly started spending on tea and she's just _tired_.

She's _so_ tired and Felicity can't remember the last time she was this tired and it's so irritating and her brain is only functioning at half its usual capacity.

"…and that's how I ended up naked in front of all his roommates and a clown."

"Huh?"

Felicity's head jerks up and she stares in absolute horror at what Sara Lance has just said. Sara blinks back at her innocently and Felicity glances at Caitlin Snow who doesn't appear to be perturbed at all by what the blond has just announced.

Felicity blinks a little and rubs her eyes before focusing on two of her best friends, sitting across the table at a little hole-in-the-wall café they go to for breakfast on the Sunday's when their schedules line up.

Sara and Caitlin both stare back at her and Felicity picks up her triple shot latte, takes a sip and before breathing out steadily.

"I'm sorry. Why were you naked in some guy's apartment? Wouldn't Nyssa be upset that you were naked in some guy's apartment? With a clown?" Felicity asks, confused because the last time she checked, Sara was most definitely only getting naked with the exotic brunette she'd met last year.

The blond raises an eyebrow and Felicity suddenly realizes that whatever it was Sara was actually saying has nothing to do with being naked. The clown should have been her first clue, really.

But her brain really isn't functioning properly and, given the concerned look Caitlin gives her, it's pretty obvious that it isn't.

She blames Motorbike Man.

Caitlin makes a sympathetic sound. "Is your neighbor still waking you up?"

Felicity groans at the question. "Yes! Motorbike Man got home at four this morning. Four! It should be illegal for anyone to be _awake_ at that hour, let alone riding a stupid motorbike that makes a stupid noise that's too loud for my quiet street."

Caitlin makes a sympathetic noise as Sara tries to hide her laughter behind the frothy cappuccino she's just lifted to her lips. Felicity glares at the blond who just quirks an eyebrow back at her.

"You call them Motorbike Man? Seriously?" Sara asks, laughter coating her question and Felicity knows the question has her glaring mulishly at Sara.

Mostly because Sara's _clearly_ missed the point of her reply. Namely the illegality of riding a motorbike that sounds like a race car at four in the morning. The other part is just tiredness makes her cranky.

Even as Felicity opens her mouth to snap back at her friend, Caitlin intervenes because Caitlin has clearly not missed the point of her reply and is the more sympathetic of her two friends.

"Have you thought about introducing yourself and asking if there's anyway for your neighbor to not…be so loud?"

Felicity can tell that Caitlin wasn't entirely sure how she was going to end that sentence even as she started it but she appreciates it all the same.

Even if Felicity's pretty sure introducing herself to Motorbike Man would just go badly for everyone involved.

She's had just enough sleep to know this.

So, Felicity just shrugs in response to Caitlin's question even as Sara laughs again.

"I can't believe you've named them Motorbike Man."

Felicity glares at her friend.

She absolutely has not had enough sleep to deal with Sara or thoughts of awkward introductions to people who should be arrested for noise pollution.

But she _has_ had enough sleep to know this but not want to do anything about it. So she's just going to suffer until…she does something about it, probably.

Which, given how tired she actually is, it'll probably be another week of sleep deprivation before she does something drastic.

* * *

So, it was more like ten days before Felicity's decision to do something drastic occurs.

It happens because she was in one of those deep, dreamless, _really_ restful sleeps that happens once a month, so when the rumbling slowly infiltrates her sleep and rouses her to consciousness at three-forty-two a.m., Felicity's pretty much done.

So, she takes Caitlin's advice.

Sort of.

She doesn't get out of bed and go upstairs to apartment five and knock on the door and introduce herself to ask Motorbike Man if he can do something about coming home at a stupid hour.

No, because she's groggy and really tired and running on so much less sleep than usual, Felicity decided to put her own unique spin on Caitlin's suggestion.

By writing a passive aggressive note that reads:

 _To Mr. Motorbike Man,_

 _Would it be at all possible for you to stop returning to this building at hours when the normal population is trying to enjoy eight hours of uninterrupted sleep? May I suggest returning in the early hours of the_ _night_ _not the early hours of the_ _morning_ _?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

So, yes, she improvises a little and Felicity _just_ sleep deprived enough to actually leave her apartment at three in the morning to pin it to the communal cork-board down by the stairs.

Because that way, _everyone_ can see it.

Including Mr. Motorbike Man.

* * *

Felicity doesn't know if she appreciates Sara's hysterical laughter.

Actually, Felicity's pretty sure she _doesn't_ appreciate Sara's hysterical laughter or Caitlin's attempts at hiding her laughter and this time, it has no connection at all to the fact that she's sleep deprived.

Oh no, Felicity feels like she could handle it if her lack of appreciation stems from sleep deprivation.

But it doesn't.

Because Motorbike Man actually _replied_ to her passive aggressive note.

Felicity hadn't actually forgotten about the note she'd pinned to the communal board but she'd been trying to time going to take it down before anyone saw it. Because she's really _not_ a passive aggressive person and, really, she doesn't do things like this.

Ever.

She'd even managed to feel a little guilty about the fact that she'd left the note because, well, she doesn't know this person and she doesn't know what they do and what if her note was just…a horrible way to end Motorbike Man's night? What if she'd made it worse?

So, she'd headed downstairs when she was pretty sure no-one was around only to stand in front of the corkboard and stare in horror.

Motorbike Man had replied.

Even now, Felicity can't believe that he'd actually written a reply. Motorbike Man had actually taken time out of his day to write something that she only sort of meant in the first place.

Reaching out, Felicity grasps the piece of paper and pulls it towards her, reading the words written in scratchy, masculine hand again:

 _To Sleep Deprived,_

 _I own a nightclub._

 _So, no._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

As soon as she'd read the reply, Felicity had called Sara and Caitlin to show them what she'd done.

Which is why they're all sitting in her living room and her two friends are laughing at her absolute mortification. Because expecting some sympathy from her two friends was probably too much to hope for.

Especially Sara who thought it was funny that she was sleep deprived in the first place.

"I can't believe he replied." Sara sputters, still giggling as Felicity groans. "I can't believe you wrote a _note_."

Caitlin lets out a steadying breath before offering consolingly. "At least now you know why he's getting back so late."

Felicity lifts her head to stare at her friends.

"Yes but Motorbike Man wasn't _supposed_ to see the stupid note. I thought I'd be able to take it down before he did."

"I can't actually believe you had the guts to put it up in the first place, it's a very un-you thing to do. Wouldn't you normally try and ruin their credit history or something first?" Sara asks and Felicity shrugs helplessly.

"It was four in the morning. I hadn't had enough sleep to even _try_ to ruin someone's credit history, let alone think leaving a note through. Clearly." Felicity answers and then looks down at again. "I can't believe he saw this and _replied._ What do I do now?"

She asks the question plaintively and doesn't expect a response because Sara's still laughing a bit too hard to be helpful and Caitlin's glancing at her phone in an attempt to hide the fact that she finds it just as funny as Sara.

This means that Felicity's pretty much on her own with this one.

So, she should probably think it through before figuring out how to approach Motorbike Man to apologize for being a horrible, passive aggressive, sleep-deprived neighbor.

* * *

Felicity sucks at thinking things through.

Or making decisions on her own.

Because she ends up writing a reply to Motorbike Man's reply. To be fair, she has drunk half a bottle of wine and heard a motorbike go past, so it's not like she's thinking _that_ straight.

Still, she probably could have done better than:

 _To Motorbike Man,_

 _Maybe you could get a vehicle that doesn't sound like there's a helicopter crashing into my apartment instead? That way when you return at the illegal hours of the morning, nobody wakes up._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

But still, she's done something about this.

* * *

His reply is just as terse as the first one.

 _To Sleep Deprived,_

 _I own a Ducati 1299 Panigale. It does not sound like a helicopter. Maybe you should just close your windows?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

Felicity can't help but feel maybe he's a little annoyed at her note and then, because she's never had any interest in motorbikes or cars or vehicles other than having them get her from Point A to Point B, she takes out her pen and writes a reply below his.

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _I don't know what a Ducati 1299 Panigale is. My windows are always closed because its autumn and it does too sound like a helicopter._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

Satisfied, Felicity heads to work with only the vague notion that this note writing may become a thing.

Sort of like all those things she appreciates about other people.

She then wonders if he's going to reply.

As it turns out, she doesn't have to wonder for very long.

Because the note thing?

Becomes a thing.

* * *

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _A Ducati 1299 Panigale is a motorbike. It does not sound like a helicopter. It sounds like a motorbike. If your windows are closed, maybe you should invest in some earplugs?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _I get that it's a motorbike. But I don't understand the numbers or the name of it. Am I supposed to? I can also guarantee that if you were woken up at three-thirty in the morning by the sound that bike makes, you would think it sounds like a helicopter as well. And I don't like earplugs._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

* * *

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _Given that you think it sounds like a helicopter, no. You're not supposed to understand what it means. I don't need to be woken up at three in the morning to know that my bike does_ _not_ _sound like a helicopter. Who doesn't like earplugs? It would solve your problem._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _It sounds like a helicopter crashing into my living room at three-thirty in the morning. Please accept this information. I don't like earplugs because it means I'll sleep through my alarm. I can't sleep through my alarm otherwise I'll be late for work and I'm already in trouble because I've been so tired I got into trouble. There was a server crash and I didn't fix it quickly enough and my supervisor yelled at me and you probably didn't need to know this. It was a long day, anyway. I also don't like to stick things in my ear._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

 _p.s. I still don't understand the name thing._

* * *

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _I will not accept that information. Because it doesn't sound like that. The name isn't important. The brand is. Have you tried putting a pillow over your head to block out the sound? How do you listen to music if you don't like putting things in your ear? Your day sounds terrible. I'm sorry. So, you're in IT, right?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

 _p.s. this is a gift card to the coffee shop on the corner. Please use it so you're not too tired when you get to work and you can have a good day._

* * *

Sara's on the floor this time, Caitlin's staring at her over her glass of red and Felicity is staring at the gift card that came attached to the latest note from Motorbike Man.

Seriously.

He gave her a _gift_ _card_ worth fifty dollars so she could go and get coffee. So she's not tired when she goes to work. Felicity doesn't know if this is weird or not. She really doesn't.

She feels like it probably would be if she hadn't spend the last week exchanging notes with him.

Notes that have gone from being slightly passive aggressive to, sort of, flirty and cute. Felicity knows this because Sara and Caitlin have just read them out loud and find it hilarious that Felicity might be flirting with this guy.

A guy she doesn't know _at all_ , really.

Which means that this whole thing should be weird because apart from the fact that she knows Motorbike Man lives in the building, drives a motorbike and owns a nightclub, what does she actually know about him?

She doesn't even know his name. Or what he looks like. Or if he's an old or young or around her age or what his opinion on politics, Marvel or _Doctor Who_ is.

There's so much she doesn't know about him and he's given her a gift card.

Felicity doesn't really know how to take this gesture. She really doesn't because it's a gift card. Should she get him something as well?

"Like what?" Caitlin asks curiously and Felicity realizes that she's been talking out loud.

Which isn't exactly a bad thing because at least her friends know what's going on in her head and she doesn't have to try and organize her thoughts into concise sentences.

"I don't know! I just…he gave me a gift card because I complained about getting in trouble at work. I feel like I should return the favor because who gives a gift card to someone they don't know?" Felicity demands, looking at both of them pleadingly.

"Felicity, if you're really uncomfortable with it, then why don't you just give it back?" Sara asks, breathing a little heavily from her fit of laughter.

"That way, you don't have to owe him anything and stress yourself out over getting him something else." Caitlin agrees, nodding and taking a sip of her wine.

Felicity blushes guiltily and Sara starts laughing again.

"I would but…I've sort of used some of it already and I can't give back a used gift card."

Caitlin sighs and Felicity lets her head drop into her hands.

Because, well, what does she do now? Get him something too? Take the card and run, figuratively? Then Felicity cringes as she realizes something.

She probably should have thanked him first before freaking out.

That would have been the polite thing to do.

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _Thank you for my gift card. You_ _really_ _didn't have to. I mean it. It's not your fault that I'm sleep deprived. I would give it back but I kind of already used it. So…thank you for the month of coffee you've pretty much bought me. I appreciate it. Yes, I am in IT. What gave it away? Also, I feel like if I put a pillow over my head, I'd just end up suffocating myself because I'd be asleep and unaware of the pillow on my head thing._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

 _p.s. do you like Marvel?_

 _p.p.s is it a brand thing like if you sew a symbol or a name onto a handbag, it's suddenly worth three hundred dollars more than the twenty dollars it's worth everywhere else?_

* * *

 _To Sleep Deprived,_

 _It is my fault. So, I really did have to. You're welcome. The pillow may have been a bad idea. I wouldn't want you to suffocate yourself. Even though you probably wouldn't because my bike would wake you up._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

 _p.s. I do like Marvel. Fan of 'Guardians of the Galaxy.' Why?_

 _p.p.s. No. It's really not like that. Ducati is one of the best bike makers in the world. You can't throw a name onto another, cheaper bike and expect it to work like a Ducati._

* * *

Felicity buys him a _Guardians of the Galaxy_ magnet that turns out to be really hard to get on the board next to her note.

As she's struggling with it, Felicity hears someone coming down the stairs towards her and, because it might just be Motorbike Man, she _freaks out_.

Jumping away from the cork-board, leaving her note and the magnet precariously hanging on for dear life, Felicity hides behind a brick pillar wide enough to hide two of her.

The footsteps stop at the cork-board and Felicity sidles to the edge to peek around the corner as she hears a very male chuckle.

The man standing in front of the communal has his back to her and Felicity swallows hard at what she's looking at. Because the man is tall, broad and, from what she can see, is _very_ built. The white t-shirt he's wearing pulling tight across his shoulders, the sleeves straining a little as his bicep bulges when he raises a hand to pluck the magnet off the board even as Felicity's eyes drift down to take in just how well his worn out jeans fit him.

They fit him really well.

Felicity's blushing when she suddenly realizes that he's pulled out a pen to reply to her note and that's when she _really_ freaks out.

Because this well built man must be Motorbike Man and if the back of him matches the front then…then he's _hot_ and Felicity doesn't know what to do with this information right at this second.

Because he's reading her note. The one that says:

 _To Motorbike Man,_

 _It is your fault. I don't know why I pretended it isn't. Thank you for the coffee, anyway. I got you this magnet as a thank you gift. Because I felt guilty even if it is your fault I'm sleep deprived. I hope you have somewhere to put it. You do have a fridge, right? Also, I stand by my fear of suffocation even if your bike_ _would_ _wake me up. So, no sleeping with a pillow on my head. Maybe I'll learn how to sleep through the noise?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

 _p.s. I was just curious. About you. Kind of. What about Doctor Who?_

 _p.p.s So it's one of those things where you spend the money because it's got a good name and you know its going to be worth it? Like, when you buy a tablet?_

Felicity holds her breath as he pauses for a second before scribbling something down on the notepaper below her writing.

He finishes rather quickly and, tossing his magnet up and down, he steps away from the cork-board and Felicity ducks back behind the pillar. Holding her breath and hoping that he doesn't see her, Felicity listens as he walks away.

She stays frozen behind the pillar up until she hears his motorbike roar to life, just in case he decides to come back. When she's absolutely sure that he's not on his way back, Felicity rushes over to the cork-board to see his note.

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _Thank you for the magnet. I do happen to own a fridge. It helps me keep things cold. Let me think about another suggestion to help you block out the noise of my bike. That still doesn't sound like a helicopter. I'll get back to you on that. I don't think you'll manage to get used to it, though. Doctor Who's the guy with the blue telephone box, right?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Motorbike Man_

 _p.s. Yes. It's like that. Ducati's one of the best in the business._

 _p.p.s. I'm curious about you, too. Mostly about why you thought you had to jump behind the brick pillar when you heard me coming down the stairs?_

Felicity stares at the words and lets them sink in.

Oh. Oh dear.

He saw her.

Motorbike Man saw her jumping behind the pillar to avoid him and what does she do now? Does she reply? Does she pretend she doesn't know what he's talking about?

Does she pretend she's got no idea what he looks like? Does she write another note? Does she _not_ write another note?

This note-writing thing has spun wildly out of control and Felicity isn't entirely sure she knows what to do to bring it under control.

Complain about his motorbike? His suggestions? The way his handwriting looks? Go back to being passive aggressive?

Because this note-writing thing is becoming quite a bit more serious than she'd originally thought it would and Felicity doesn't know if that's a bad thing or not.

* * *

Well, how was it? I hope it was okay! Look out for the next chapter!


	2. Part II: To Sleep Deprived

A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long to get up! But, real life got in the way (thank God it wasn't writer's block) I had an exam and then work and then a friend of mine is going through something. So, it's taken me a while and I apologize. Also, thank you all for your absolutely gorgeous reviews, it such a wonderful thing to receive. You're all amazing!

So, here's part two and I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

 **Part II: To Sleep Deprived**

Oliver Queen is certain of only a few things in his life.

One, his club _Verdant_ has proved exactly what he'd hoped it would. That he could be a responsible, successful businessman when it came to something he was interested in and that he had, in fact, grown up.

Much to the shock of his parents, his sister, his ex-girlfriend and pretty much everyone who had known him at age twenty.

Two, his Ducati most definitely does _not_ sound like a helicopter trying to land and he will never understand how someone could think that. He fully appreciates that some people may not have the admiration for his bike that he does but still, it's something of an insult to his bike that someone described it's roar as a helicopter trying to land.

Three, that Sleep Deprived is the cute blond that lives in apartment two.

Oliver had held a suspicion that Sleep Deprived was the blond that he'd spotted a handful of times around his building, but seeing her jump behind the brick pillar to avoid him had confirmed his suspicion. Which had left him feeling rather intrigued and, if he's honest, pleased.

He doesn't know the woman's name but he'd seen her a couple of times since he'd moved into his new apartment a month ago. Not that she'd seen him, if anything; she was shockingly unaware of her surroundings which had allowed him a long, appreciative look at her the first time he'd caught sight of her.

Toned legs, a curvy, compact figure in a tight bright blue dress and a long blond ponytail had piqued his interest the second he'd spotted her. He'd been on his way to a breakfast meeting on, maybe, four hours of sleep and catching sight of her had made that morning bearable.

Oliver hadn't made a point of trying to spot her since that first time but, whenever he did see her, he had allowed himself an appreciative look.

Because he can appreciate a beautiful woman when he sees one and it wasn't like he'd sought her out.

It hadn't even taken him that long to realize that she was the person that had left him the note about the noise of his motorbike. He'd been mildly offended when he'd read the first note, at least he'd been offended enough to write a terse reply and not give much thought to who could have written the note.

Right up until he received a reply and realized that if the person was waking up, then, in all likelihood it was the person who lived above his garage.

And, given that he's somewhat observant, Oliver managed to put two and two together when he remembered that whenever he saw the cute blond, she was coming out of the apartment above his garage which meant, in all likelihood, _she_ was the one leaving him notes.

So, instead of ignoring the next note like he'd originally planned to do, Oliver found himself replying to it.

Then replying to another one and then another before he found himself buying her a coffee card down the street as an apology for waking her up.

Oliver honestly wasn't sure what he'd been expecting in return but the _Guardians of the Galaxy_ magnet had not been one of them and neither had actually seeing her hide behind a the pillar, confirming his suspicions about who she was.

Picking up the magnet from his desk, Oliver tosses it in the air and catches it as he wonders how she's going to respond to his latest note especially because he has a feeling she'd figured she'd hidden well enough to not be spotted by him.

Which was ridiculous on so many levels because Oliver had caught sight of her the second he'd reached the top of the last flight of stairs and had paused in surprise just long enough for her hide.

It had been disappointing but Oliver had the sense that Sleep Deprived wasn't entirely ready to face him yet. That's okay because Oliver's having a little too much fun with the note thing they have going on to risk giving it up now.

"Oliver, buddy, tell your devilishly handsome best friend you've managed to confirm the Bressler twins for Saturday nights shindig?" Tommy Merlyn asks jovially, walking into Oliver's office and throwing himself in one of the chairs on the opposite side of him.

Oliver throws the magnet in the air again, catching it and eyeing the dark haired man sitting opposite him curiously.

"I haven't had a chance to confirm with them. Besides, I thought you and Laurel had a date Saturday night?" Oliver asks, referring to Tommy's live-in girlfriend that, while not insecure, knows enough about her boyfriends past to be wary of any mention of twins.

Tommy rolls his eyes. "We do. But this party needs to be big and between the Bressler's daddy's credit card and their social media reach, confirming them will put this place at capacity and probably beyond it."

Oliver observes Tommy as he speaks, finding it interesting that his best friend has turned as serious as he's able in their discussion of this business.

It's nice to know that they've both grown up.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. Which one do I have to talk to? Candice or Juliet?" Oliver throws the magnet up again.

"If I were you, I'd talk to Juliet. She's the one that hasn't been waiting for you to call her back for the last three years." Tommy says; his eyes following as Oliver throws the magnet again. "Dude, what's with the magnet?"

"Juliet. Right. I'll talk to Thea and get on that." Oliver says, tossing his magnet to Tommy so his friend can get a good look at it.

Tommy catches it and then bursts out laughing. "If I knew you wanted a magnet with a pretty mans face on it, Ollie, I would have made one up for you. This handsome face is everything you need to see when you get milk from the fridge."

Oliver glances up from the screen of his phone, "hmm? It's from Sleep Deprived."

"Who's Sleep Deprived?" Tommy asks curiously.

Oliver, upon receiving an almost immediate reply from his sister, grabs the keys to his bike and stands up. Pocketing his phone, he's shrugging into his leather jacket as Tommy watches him, still holding the magnet.

"I have to go. I'll talk to Juliet about Saturday." Oliver says, rounding his desk to his best friend.

"Wait, Ollie, who's Sleep Deprived? And why are they giving you magnets with Chris Pratt on them?" Tommy asks, tossing the magnet in the air in much the same way Oliver had been doing before.

Oliver snatches the magnet out of the air and shrugs. "Tell you later. Bye."

Tommy's mouth's open to protest as Oliver strides out of his office, on his way to a lunch demanded by his sister.

The magnet firmly in his pocket.

* * *

There's no note when Oliver gets home.

It's four in the morning and he's exhausted, a headache forming at the base of his skull and a nightmare to go back to tomorrow, the fight that had broken out in the middle of the club had been violent enough to warrant police intervention.

Oliver's not looking forward to the clean up tomorrow.

So, he only glances at the corkboard on his way up and it only vaguely registers that there's nothing there for him. Not even the original note from that morning.

It doesn't actually bother him to see no note.

He just figures there'll be something there tomorrow.

* * *

There's no note the next day, either.

Or the following day.

By the third day, Oliver is beginning to feel slightly baffled by the lack of response. Ever since this note thing started, he doesn't think there's ever not been a note waiting for him the next day.

By the fifth, he's beginning to get annoyed. The note thing was fun and the fact that it was the cute blond who was writing them had just made him more interested in continuing it. The fact that she's stopped it, possibly because he'd seen her, is just irritating.

Irritating enough for him to make a point of revving his engine when he goes to park it when he gets home from work.

Oliver realizes that this is maybe slightly passive aggressive but his bike is the reason she started the whole thing and he figures he may as well find out if it'll be the reason to continue it.

He's half hoping, though, that she'll become annoyed enough to confront him personally.

By the seventh day of no note, revving his engine and no confrontation, Oliver's trying to figure out what to do next.

* * *

He's sitting in his office, ignoring the paperwork that he's supposed to be reading through and throwing and catching the magnet. It's hard to believe that this note thing is bothering him as much as it is but Oliver's self aware enough to know that it's because he's _interested_.

It is the most interesting thing that he's allowed himself to be involved in since he opened the club three years ago and the fact that it's stopped is just irritating.

Oliver's also self aware enough to know that only _part_ of the reason he's interested is because Sleep Deprived is the cute blond he's seen. The other part is because the notes were fun and quirky and, once he'd decided he'd decided to not be offended by the passive aggressive beginning, he'd actually been interested in the person that was writing them.

Except now Sleep Deprived isn't writing anything and Oliver's out of ideas.

So when his sister breezes into his office, Oliver only frowns at her vaguely before turning back to the problem at hand.

Getting Sleep Deprived to talk to him, again.

"Ollie, I need you to help me." Thea begins, settling herself into the chair opposite his desk and ignoring her vibrating phone. "Mom wants me to come home. For dinner or something, I'm not exactly sure. But she wants me to bring _Roy_ and I know that doesn't mean anything good."

Oliver stares blankly at his sister for a second, half his mind still on his issue while the other tries to think of some way to navigate the latest battle between her and their mother. It's not a particularly easy thing to do, considering he's sure that his mother only wants to make sure Thea is all right after moving out and into her boyfriends place in a huff over college.

Not that Thea sees it that way. If anything, Oliver has a suspicion that his sister is looking at this dinner as another way for their mother to control her and her choices. Given that his mother's parenting choices in regards to Thea have a lot to do with him when he was younger, Oliver feels like he owes his sister.

"Did she say why she wanted you there?" He asks, catching the magnet and eyeing his sister.

"No. She just said that she'd like for us to come over. She didn't say anything else but I'm _not_ moving back into the mansion. You moved out, so why would I want to stay there?" Thea says, narrowing her eyes at him when he offers a non-committal 'hmm.' "You think I should go back, don't you?"

Oliver drops the magnet on his desk and leans forward, looking at his sister directly so she knows he's being serious.

"I think that you should give mom the benefit of the doubt on this one, Thea. She's asked you to go. So, go. If you're not happy with how it's going than leave but don't cut her out just because you think you're right and she's wrong. She just wants to know you're okay." Oliver says and Thea's face turns mutinous at his words.

Oliver holds her gaze, recognizing the look for what it is, a last ditch attempt at not being reasonable. At eighteen, Thea may still sometimes be prone to effective tantrums that get her what she wants but she also knows when she's being unreasonable.

Oliver's pretty sure she knows she's being unreasonable and he's proven right when she lets out a loud sigh.

"Fine. I'll go. But," she says loudly when Oliver opens his mouth to say something. "If it doesn't go well, I get to drink and you can say nothing about it. Okay?"

Swallowing his protest, Oliver nods. "Fine."

He's pretty sure that's as good as he's going to get from his sister and Oliver picks up the magnet again as Thea stands, shouldering her bag and rolling her eyes.

"This would be so much easier if I could just leave her a note or something on the door, saying I'm fine. No interaction necessary. Then I wouldn't even have to talk to her and pretend like I'm happy with her."

Oliver's eyebrows shoot up at her words and Thea gives him a strange look as he starts shifting papers on his desk, searching for a blank, lined piece of paper.

Because Thea's suddenly reminded him he _hasn't_ done everything he possible can with regard to Sleep Deprived.

Picking up his pen, Oliver just hopes she replies.

He'll pin it to the corkboard when he get back.

* * *

 _To Sleep Deprived,_

 _Have you finally caught up on all your sleep?_

 _Just curious._

 _Motorbike Man_

He pins it to the corkboard on his way past that night, knowing that it will be the first thing she sees when she comes down the stairs the next morning.

* * *

It most certainly _is_ the first thing Felicity sees when she comes downstairs.

It's not like she can miss it. It's there, on the corkboard, taunting her. If it was written on bright neon green paper in bold black letters, Felicity feels like she may have had more of a chance of walking past the corkboard.

Instead, it's just lined paper and the masculine script that Felicity recognizes from every other note he's left.

It still makes her stop mid-stride, though.

Because she _hasn't_ been caught up on her sleep and, she's sorry, but he _has_ to know it's because of him. Him and the fact that she knows he's been revving his stupid motorbike whenever he comes back at whatever illegal time he returns. She hasn't figured out if the revving is deliberate or not but she's surprised that no one else has complained.

Clearly everyone else in her building can sleep through the sound of a motorbike pulling up at three in the morning. Clearly, she is the only one with this issue and the only one that cares.

Still, Felicity hesitates to write him a reply because of how poorly she'd reacted when she'd read his last note.

Intellectually, Felicity knows that she had no reason to react the way she did to him seeing her that day and calling her out on hiding. She knows, too, that she has absolutely no reason to be freaked out by it or even take so long in composing a response that she stretches it out too long and can't, reasonably, reply.

Felicity _knows_ all of this.

Truly, she does. But knowing something intellectually and applying it to her initial reaction of fright, followed closely by mortification and then straight onto 'holy crap, what have I done?' meant that her emotions ruled her actions.

Sara had also thrown in the fact that Felicity would have freaked out even more because she thought Motorbike Man was hot.

Felicity had not appreciated that comment. No matter how true it was. Nor had she appreciated Sara's decided lack of help in figuring out what to say back to him.

So, because her emotions had overruled her intellect, Felicity hadn't written anything back and, apparently, Motorbike Man hadn't just forgotten the note thing they'd had happening.

And the longer she stares at this note, the less likely it is that it's going to disappear and the more likely it is that it's going to taunt her.

Biting her lip, Felicity glances around in case anyone is watching and then reaches into her bag for a pen.

She has no idea what to say but Felicity feels like it might just come to her.

Maybe.

 _Dear Motorbike Man,_

 _No. No I haven't caught up on my sleep. In fact, weirdly, it seems like I've somehow been getting less sleep. Do you have any ideas as to why that might be happening?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sleep Deprived_

* * *

Oliver isn't in the greatest of moods when he spots her reply.

He's home later than normal, a dispute between two of his bar staff had blown up around closing and the headache that had appeared as he'd listened to what were, frankly, problems that had nothing to do with the business had just irritated him.

That Tommy had known about the beginnings of these issues and forgone telling him only added to it.

So, by the time he's climbing his stairs at four-thirty in the morning, Oliver's in need of a distraction from the pounding in his head.

Sleep Deprived's reply is most definitely a distraction.

It also makes him smile.

* * *

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _I honestly have no idea why you still haven't been caught up on your sleep. Could something be disturbing your sleep?_

 _Motorbike Man_

 _P.S. The magnet was a great addition to my fridge. Thanks for that._

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _It surprises me that you're pretending like you haven't been revving your engine so it sounds like three helicopters are crashing into my living room instead of one. That's right, three helicopters. _

_Sleep Deprived_

 _P.S. I'm glad you like your magnet. I hope you like it as much as I like the coffee card you got me._

* * *

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _Again, it doesn't sound like a helicopter crashing into your living room. A helicopter would be much louder._

 _Motorbike Man_

 _P.S. I'm glad you like the coffee card. Though it's not going to last as long as my magnet. What else do you like?_

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _It does too. You aren't in my bed or my apartment when you come home, so you don't get a say in what it sounds like. When you've been in my bedroom, then you can have an opinion on the noise you make. So there._

 _I think I'm growing used to the helicopter noise now, though._

 _Sleep Deprived_

 _P.S. You might have to be more specific. Do you mean television, movies or food?_

* * *

Oliver nearly stops breathing when he reads the latest note Sleep Deprived has left him.

He knows she only means her note as an invitation for anything other than proving a point. But. He's a guy and he knows who Sleep Deprived is and Oliver isn't going to lie, he's definitely attracted to Sleep Deprived.

The way she'd filled out that blue dress is seared into his memory.

Still, he flicks his pen back and forth between his fingers as he reads the note again, this could be an opportunity if he can word it the right way.

After all, Oliver's _interested_ and not just because of the blue dress. Sleep Deprived is funny, he knows she's cute and Oliver can't actually remember the last time someone bought him something that makes him smile just by looking at it.

So, yeah, he's interested and he's hoping that he can come up with something that nudges this into a direction where she doesn't jump behind a brick pillar to avoid him.

Drawing a breath, Oliver puts pen to paper.

 _Sleep Deprived,_

 _This suddenly got more interesting. I think maybe we should meet and discuss the noise my bike makes from your bedroom, somewhere other than your bedroom. _

_What do you say?_

 _We can also talk about how my bike doesn't sound like a helicopter._

 _Motorbike Man._

 _P.S. Well, lets start with: Do you like Italian? Or, what's your name?_

* * *

Felicity chokes on her coffee when she reads the note Motorbike Man has left.

Coughing violently, Felicity re-reads the notes he's left and her grip tightens on her coffee. He wants to _meet_ her? That doesn't sound like a great idea seeing as the last time he was physically near her, she'd jumped behind a pillar in fear of meeting him.

And why has this suddenly become more interesting? Glancing above his most recent note, Felicity reads what she'd written before and blanches a little.

It's not really an innuendo or…well, it sort of does read like an invitation into her bedroom and _why_ did she even write that? What was she thinking?

Felicity finds herself gnawing at her coffee cup and considering what her next move should be. This is getting more personal than she'd thought it would and, okay, she really can't blame him for wanting to meet her because she'd like to make a better first impression than jumping behind a brick pillar.

She also might be, sort of, curious about the hot guy who rides the stupid motorcycle that's been replying to her notes.

What does she do now?

* * *

"So, he wants to meet you?"

Caitlin calmly takes a sip of her tea and Felicity makes a face at the calm question. They're sitting at a little café down the road from Caitlin's lab and Felicity's poking at a brownie she doesn't really want but ordered anyway.

Caitlin's sipping tea and had listened calmly to the continued saga of the notes without so much as a burst of laughter.

Which is why Felicity had called her in the first place.

Sara would be rolling around on the floor by this point and Felicity just didn't have the ability to deal with that today.

"Yes! But I don't know if I want to meet him." At Caitlin's disbelieving look, Felicity amends. "Well, I want to make a better impression than hiding behind a pillar. Obviously but…I started this whole thing by insulting him. Or his bike. Whichever." Felicity says, stabbing at her brownie rather violently.

Honestly, who would have thought that a passive aggressive note written at three a.m. would have led to this dilemma?

"I think you should meet him." Caitlin announces and Felicity's head snaps up.

"What? Really? But I don't know this guy!"

Caitlin's brow furrows. "You know him well enough to be considering meeting him. Otherwise you would have just said no and not called me."

Felicity stares at her friend because she knows, deep down, that Caitlin's right. Felicity has had enough experience in life to be able to deliver a flat out no to someone. The fact that she's stressing about this just means that it's become important.

"I – fine. That's true. But…what am I supposed to write? This note thing wasn't meant to be this confusing."

"You could just try answering his questions. What have you got to lose? How hard could that be?" Felicity glares at Caitlin, who has the grace to look at least a little sheepish. "Or you could continue to stress over it. Do whatever you think is necessary. I have no opinion on this."

Felicity just groans a little as Caitlin takes another sip of her tea.

* * *

It takes Felicity another three minutes of staring at his note before she decides on a reply.

She's half hoping that she won't regret this and half hoping…well, that it won't blow up in her face, really.

She hopes it doesn't. Because maybe she's interested in Motorbike Man and the fact that he seems to have a sense of humor, can feel regret and is generous. He also wears jeans really well and, Caitlin's right, what has she got to lose?

If it doesn't work out, he works weird hours and she won't have to see him.

Or she could move.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity presses her pen to the notepaper.

* * *

 _Motorbike Man,_

 _It does too sound like a helicopter and…it sounds like a helicopter from my living room too. Not just my bedroom. But my living room and my kitchen and my whole apartment. Not such a big focus on the bedroom._

 _So there._

 _I say that I generally get coffee on a Saturday morning from the coffee shop down the road. With my gift card. At about ten o'clock. I tend to sit by the window. Okay? Okay._

 _Sleep Deprived_

 _P.S. Pizza is my middle name. Well, actually, it's Megan but if I could be named after food, Pizza would be my middle name._

 _P.P.S My name is Felicity._

* * *

It's four in the morning and Oliver can feel exhaustion pulling at his bones as he makes his way up to the apartment when he spots the note.

He reads it once. Then he reads it again, just to double check what she's saying. Then he pulls out his pen.

Because this is worth replying to.

 _To Felicity,_

 _I sometimes like getting coffee down the road, too. Especially on Saturday's when it's fun to sit by the window and people watch around ten o'clock._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Oliver_


	3. Part III: Solid Mass of Rebound Material

Okay, so, writer's block combined with Christmas combined with a slew of actual work? Makes writing so much harder. I literally had no time and I'm really sorry it's taken me this long to get this chapter up.

Truly, I'm sorry.

On another note, Oliver and Felicity really chose not cooperate in this chapter. Like, really, I was planning something very different and instead...well, you'll see what happens. It's almost a filler chapter but not quite? I have no idea but you'll get a lot of both of them.

I guess the sort of filler is a good thing, maybe? It means the story might go for longer than the five chapters I was planning.

Anyway, please enjoy this somewhat filler of a chapter!

(And don't kill me. I do know how you all wanted it to go!)

* * *

 **Part III: Solid Mass of Rebound Material**

Felicity comes up with a plan.

A really good plan for that involves acting like a completely normal person on a Saturday morning, walking into the coffee shop down the road and politely greeting Motorbike Man – who's name is actually Oliver and, oh my god, Felicity did _not_ immediately think of olives when she saw his name, she _didn't_ – while pretending she _hasn't_ stayed up half the night thinking about how this coffee date is going to go down.

Felicity's pretty sure it's a coffee _date_ , anyway.

She's pretty sure Motorbike Man wouldn't ask her to coffee to, to…Felicity frowns. Huh. She has no alternate theory for him wanting to ask her to coffee.

After all, _she_ is the one with the problem. Not him. He was just the unfortunate soul who'd made the terrible decision of owning a motorbike that had invoked her wrath.

Not that it was much of a wrath.

It was more…sleepless irritation put onto paper.

That had developed into a mutual agreement to meet for coffee.

On a date.

At least, Felicity's pretty sure it's a date. He had done the asking about meeting up and then she'd done the implying about coffee and he'd taken the implication and run with it.

There had also been flirting and accidental innuendos in their notes and Felicity's pretty sure she's not reading the notes wrong except…how can you tell if someone is flirting with you on paper? She couldn't do it in middle school and it hasn't grown any clearer since she was in middle school.

To be fair, Felicity's never entirely sure when someone's flirting with her, anyway. Which is just a disaster for her personal life because if she's not sure, she doesn't know what to do and it always ends with her putting her foot in her mouth.

So, she's sort of sure they were flirting and the flirting led to him asking to meet her and it's a date.

She thinks.

Groaning aloud, Felicity reaches up to rub her eyes then remembers that she's wearing mascara and has to tamp down a howl of frustration.

She's _so_ tired and it's not even Motorbike Man's fault this time! At least, it's not his _bikes_ fault this time.

It's totally his fault for running with the implication that they'll meet at ten o'clock in the morning without confirming what this _meeting_ actually was.

So, Felicity had found herself awake at six o'clock on a Saturday morning thinking about the stupid maybe-a-date-but-maybe-not and had found herself counting down the hours until she could leave to find out what it was.

Because she'd reached the conclusion about five minutes because she'd had to leave that she can't clear it up unless she went to the coffee shop and met him. Oliver, him. Not another him. Oliver. Whose name she has to start using in her head so she doesn't call him something else when face-to-face.

Then, when she went into the coffee shop she could ask what this was and, if it turned out it's not a date, well, she'd worn her flat boots for a reason.

First though, she has to actually enter the coffee shop.

Which isn't going that well.

Felicity knows she's being slightly unreasonable but, well, she's _nervous_ and it's translated into her walking past the coffee shop a grand total of four times in the last ten minutes.

The café is situated in the middle of the street, sandwiched between a salon and gift store and cheerily invites people in with tables set outside, the scent of coffee coming from the open window and fairy lights strung in the front window.

Felicity has never had a problem walking into the cheery little café before. Right up until now. Now, she's on her fifth pass and she has to make it six because she has to walk past an even six, okay?

Then she'll enter.

This is despite her resolving to enter the _first_ time she walked past.

Clearly, that resolve hadn't worked out that well.

Putting her head down, Felicity reaches the end of the street and turns on her heel to pace back to the other end.

Idly, Felicity finds herself noting that the toe of her black boot is scuffed. Not too badly but it's still scuffed which means she might be able to buy another pair of black boots to go with her other three.

But she only has two pairs of ankle boots, neither of them in black. So maybe she can get away with treating herself to a black pair to make up from the stress she's decided to put herself under on this coffee date.

Felicity's only thinking about buying new boots for twenty seconds, twenty seconds of not paying attention to her surroundings at _all_ , when she runs head first into a solid mass of person who lets out a surprised 'oomph' as her footing gives way because she actually _rebounds_ off the solid mass of person.

Letting out a surprised yelp, Felicity finds herself falling backwards in a rush and can only wonder how she was walking _so fast_ she managed to _rebound_ off someone, when the Solid Mass of Rebound Material grabs her hand.

Only to yank her back to her feet with so much force, Felicity stumbles and she is _not_ _this_ _clumsy_ as she runs head first in the Solid Mass of Rebound Material, _again_.

Solid Mass of Rebound Material's chest is extremely hard and – while Felicity is sure she'd appreciate it if she hadn't just run head first into it – it's also vibrating. Which she's pretty sure means he's laughing.

Huffing, Felicity _finally_ finds her footing and straightens so she can look up at the Solid Mass of Rebound Material and tell him to watch where he's going.

Only to find amused blue eyes set in a beautifully manly face with a five o'clock shadow shading cheekbones that wouldn't quit and a jaw line probably carved by Michelangelo himself, staring down at her.

Because of course she's going to run into someone who looks like _that_ after waking up at six o'clock to drive herself crazy over a maybe-a-date-but-maybe-not before being unable to enter a coffee shop because of nerves.

 _Of course_ this was going to happen to her today.

"Oh my god, this is _so_ not my _day_!" Felicity exclaims crankily at the world in general.

She then remembers that she's standing in front of someone and goes bright red because she really did mean to keep that to herself and she's not having a _bad_ enough day to take it out on the man standing in front of her.

Who is still watching her with amusement, his lips quirking slightly as he watches the blush spread.

"I don't know if it's your day," he says eventually. "But it's definitely mine."

Felicity has absolutely no idea how to react to that statement.

So, she just stares at him in surprise.

Like a creeper.

* * *

She has freckles.

Oliver's eyes are instantly drawn to them as she stares up at him in shock, her hand still gripped in hers and Oliver has no doubt about who's hand he's holding.

He's caught enough of a glimpse of her around their building to be sure that this is Felicity, the sleep deprived blond in apartment two who he asked to meet, only to find himself running twenty minutes late and sure she'd never agree to meet up with again because of it.

Oliver knows who she is; he's just never been close enough to see the freckles.

A fact he's seriously regretting not finding out before now.

Because Felicity has freckles sprinkled across her nose and is staring up at him, cheeks tinged pink and eyes wide with embarrassment behind black frames and Oliver finds himself having a slow, inevitable meltdown.

Because she's _cute_ in exactly the way he'd thought she'd be and Oliver discovers that it works for him.

It _really_ works for him.

Something he could have known earlier if he hadn't been having so much fun with the notes.

It doesn't really matter now because he now knows that she has freckles and Oliver suddenly finds himself with an intense interest in finding out if she has freckles anywhere else.

Before he can think too much on that stimulating prospect, Felicity clears her throat and then does it again, possibly for good measure.

"I'm sorry. What?" she sputters clearly stunned by his opening.

Oliver doesn't mean to grin, not really, but he can't help himself. She just looks so cute standing there, her blush deepening as she catches sight of his grin. Oliver shrugs a little, deciding not to repeat himself and instead cuts to the chase because she's looking increasingly confused.

"Felicity? I'm Oliver."

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. She just continues to stare up at him, her mouth falling open slightly and Oliver has the distinct impression that he's surprised her.

He's not sure what the surprising part is, though. Besides the running into him outside of their designated meeting place, twenty minutes _after_ they were supposed to meet. That would be surprising but who he is shouldn't be.

He thinks.

As she continues to stare up at him, not speaking, a rather unsettling notion works its way into Oliver's thoughts.

What if she's staring at him like that because she has absolutely no idea what he looks like?

It's not an entirely pleasant thought Oliver wants to entertain because that would mean that he had paid _way_ more attention to her than she ever had to him, and Oliver's not entirely sure if this makes him creepy or appreciative.

He's really not.

Still, given that Felicity looks like she's not going to speak any time soon, Oliver finds himself in the not entirely comfortable position of having to carry the conversation while shoving aside the awkward realization he's just had.

"So, sorry I'm late. I, uh, had some paperwork to get through before this and it took –" Oliver stops himself midsentence because she really doesn't need to know why he's late. "Anyway, have you been inside? Do you want a coffee?"

She's still staring at him as he talks and if Oliver's not mistaken, her gaze is beginning to grow slightly panicked. Oliver suddenly has a sinking feeling that they haven't even made it into the coffee shop and this is heading south and it's heading south _really_ quickly.

As Felicity continues to stare at him, Oliver finds himself with absolutely no idea how to stop this crashing and burning so hard; he has to move out of the building.

* * *

Felicity. Can't. Talk.

There are words, thousands of them, bubbling through her brain at any given moment, just waiting for her string together and unleash on an unsuspecting person. It had been this way since she could remember, both a curse and a comfort and entirely _reliable_.

It was now failing her spectacularly.

It was failing her so badly that Felicity can see how quickly this is going to go down as one of the most catastrophic first meetings, _ever_.

Because she can't talk.

Felicity isn't even sure why she can't talk. She has no idea if it's because the Solid Mass of Rebound Material is so attractive, she can't stop staring. She doesn't know if it's because he had told her it was his lucky day while looking at her, implying that it was lucky because she'd run into him. She doesn't even know if it's because he'd then introduced himself as Oliver and her first thought had been that his jawline was so sharp, she'd cut herself if she touched it.

Felicity supposes it's all of these things, combined with the nervous panic she'd been building before running into him and the fact that, after the jawline thought, Felicity had realized it was Oliver.

As in _Motorbike Man_ , Oliver.

The guy she's supposed to be meeting in the coffee shop she's walked past six times. Sort of. Technically, she was in the middle of her sixth pass when she'd run into the Solid Mass of Rebound Material who is also Motorbike Man.

The fact that she's managed to assign him two different identifiers is disconcerting.

So she can add that to the growing list of reasons she's currently unable to speak as she stares up at him.

He's just, really pretty and, okay, she knew he was built given that the first time she saw him, or, technically, the back of him, the muscle definition she'd seen when peeking out from behind the brick pillar was _really_ hard to miss.

But still.

He's _really_ built.

Not that she could have missed it really, given that she'd walked headfirst into him and…and now he's staring at her and Felicity realizes it's been _too_ long since the last time she'd spoken.

And that she'd possibly missed what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Oliver's eyebrows shoot up as Felicity finally finds words. Words she'd already used but still, she'd found words.

"Ah, coffee? Did you still want to get coffee?" He asks and then, before Felicity can formulate a reply, – which probably would have taken her another five minutes and wouldn't that have been a treat? – he continues. "Unless you've already had coffee and then, well, I'm sorry I'm late and missed having it with you."

Oh. Oh. He thinks she was leaving. Or had waited. Or had…done something more constructive than pace nervously up and down the street.

Which means if she doesn't talk, he's going to leave.

"No! No, I haven't had coffee. Which is a crime against humanity, really. Given how early I woke up and how long ago that was. I mean, no. No. I haven't had any coffee yet." Felicity finds words bursting from her before she can stop them, only to have them fade as he frowns a little.

Motorbike Man/Solid Mass of Rebound Material looks attractive _frowning._

This is information Felicity feels she should examine later.

"Ah, okay. So, do you still want to get coffee?" He gestures towards the café door and Felicity realizes that, right now, this is her moment to run.

Just…run. Get out of this meeting she can feel is going spectacularly badly and go home and obsess over it until she realizes that her natural inclination for absolute awkwardness was to blame for this mess.

Except, she can't.

She can't because she meets his gaze and is staggered to discover that he's looking at her hopefully. Like he really wants to get coffee with her and hasn't at all been turned off by any of her actions since she ran head first into him.

It's the hope in his eyes – the hope connected solely to _her_ – that has Felicity make the truly horrendous decision to prolong this.

So, she nods her head.

After all, it can't get much worse than this, can it?

* * *

It got _worse_.

It got so much worse, Felicity's head is still buried in the pillow she'd pressed to her face in absolute embarrassment the second she'd returned home from the train wreck of a coffee meeting.

"It can't have been that bad." Caitlin says sympathetically as Felicity mutters into her pillow incomprehensibly.

Caitlin had responded almost immediately to Felicity's slightly hysterical text about train wrecks and coffee. Even though it was her day off and Felicity knew she'd had grand plans of doing nothing all day, her friend had still shown up at her door a half hour after her message, sympathy rolling off her in waves.

Felicity lifts her head from the pillow to stare at her friend, ignoring the faint pain on the bridge of her nose from where her glasses had dug into her face.

"That bad? We sat at the table and stared at each other for ten minutes because I couldn't talk! Right after we spent five minutes on the street, awkwardly standing around because I couldn't form a sentence then, either!" Felicity exclaims and Caitlin raises her eyebrows a little as Felicity pushes hair from her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't sit in silence for that long. You had to have eventually said something."

Felicity shakes her head in derision. "Oh, yeah, my sparkling conversationalist skills came through. I talked about _code_ , Caitlin. Continuously. Without stopping. For another five minutes. I lost him at binary."

Caitlin winces a little at that and it causes Felicity to drop her face back into the pillow because she absolutely knows why Caitlin was wincing. Her friend has seen her in action when she begins to talk about coding or technology or anything Felicity considers remotely interesting.

She went through a whole phase when she was around twenty where, because she was so nervous, she espoused every fact about lions she'd ever heard.

Felicity totally blamed her obsession with _The Lion King_ when she was younger for that.

She'd grown out of it, obviously, graduating to larger, more complex topics than lions but still, Caitlin had been there in the early days, when she could talk about lions like it was nobody's business.

Caitlin held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. So, you talked about code. Did he say anything?"

"You mean after he asked if I wanted a coffee? No. He couldn't. I was too busy talking about code."

At Caitlin's sympathetic noise, Felicity let her head fall back into the pillow and tried very hard not to groan aloud.

It had been so _awful_ and she really, really hadn't wanted it to be awful.

If she were in the mood for introspection – which she wasn't because of her horrific morning, seriously, talking t a hot guy. About code. For ten minutes. – Felicity would admit that she hadn't wanted it to be awful because she hadn't been interested in someone for a very long time.

No-one had really sparked her interest enough to have her put herself out there since college and the disaster of a relationship she'd left behind there.

These notes, this weird middle school flirting ritual she's pretty sure they were going through, was the most interested she'd been in anything outside of her work and her immediate friends for a very long time.

So, no, she hadn't wanted it to be awful and, some small part of her, _really_ hadn't wanted it to be awful when she'd looked up and discovered the man could have been at home on Mount Olympus.

An Adonis, he could have been.

Even if he rode a motorbike at stupid hours of the morning.

The thought is enough for Felicity's head to pop up from her pillow suddenly.

Caitlin jumps in surprise at her sudden movement, "Felicity, wha –"

" _I didn't even talk to him about the stupid motorbike._ "

Felicity wails it because, damn it, she could have babbled about motorbikes but had she? _No_. No, she hadn't. Of course not. She had to talk about code and, out of all the things that could have come out of her morning, Felicity discovers that this?

This is the worst part.

* * *

Oliver's still mulling over his morning.

He's got no idea where he went wrong and, for the life of him, every time he goes back to thinking about it, all he gets is freckles which just leads him to debating whether or not he was a creep for noticing her.

He's still got no idea and is starting to get a headache from the circles running through his mind.

Seated at his desk in the club, Oliver can hear the bartenders prepping for a big night, chatting and shouting at each other as they make sure the bar is in order before the doors open and they're inundated with people. Oliver knows he should probably be down there, seeing if they have everything before greeting the guest DJ who's the reason they're going to have a big night but he's too busy trying to figure out what happened this morning.

Oliver picks up the magnet Felicity had given him, fingering the edge gently and staring at it, wondering how the hell they had gone from notes that were practically one long, comfortable conversation and thoughtful gifts to sitting awkwardly in silence in a coffee shop.

Oliver hadn't prepared for awkwardness, at least not the excruciating awkwardness that it was. He also hadn't prepared to run directly into her in the middle of the street because he was late. Or for the silence that emanated from her when as he tried to make conversation. Or the uncomfortable internal debate he'd had about his level of creepiness in noticing her before she knew him.

Oliver can admit to that he _really_ hadn't prepared to listen to her talk about what he was pretty sure was computer code before she finished her coffee and dashed out, leaving him sitting there wondering what the hell had happened.

He basically hadn't prepared for them to be having coffee with penguins given how far south the meet up had gone.

Oliver had honestly thought that it wouldn't be awkward when they met for the first time. He figured maybe they'd tease each other a little about the notes, that they'd find _some_ common ground and any lingering awkwardness would be gone by the time they'd finished their coffees.

He'd figured that he'd be charming and engaging and, in the absence of a better word, dazzle her into going out to dinner with him.

That…wasn't what had happened and he has no idea _why_.

Well, he does have some idea of why but Oliver's not entirely thrilled that he'd managed to be less than charming, engaging and dazzling to a women who's entire package had worked for him beyond belief.

Even when she was talking about computer code and what she was saying was absolutely lost on him, Oliver had been stunned by how attractive the intelligence shining through her had been.

Combine that with the freckles and Oliver can't help but feel petulant about how badly the coffee date had gone.

It's why he's scowling when Tommy walks in.

"Whoa. Which poor soul are you going to rain down a world of hurt on?" His best friend asks, more out of curiosity than any particular care for the individual he's sure Oliver's going to hurt.

"No-one. Everything looking good for tonight?" Oliver says, not bothering to try and stop scowling even as Tommy's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yep. We're going to hit capacity and there's some VIPs coming that are going to spend big or go home. Or so I've heard." Tommy rubs his hands together and Oliver's lips twitch slightly at his friends delight.

He knows, absolutely, that spend big or go home was his and Tommy's motto when they were younger and because of his experience at being one, Tommy has no trouble coaxing their VIPs to follow that motto to the letter.

They'd worked out pretty early on that, in a surprising twist of events, Oliver's maturity went hand in hand with a shortened tolerance of the people who frequented these clubs. It was hypocritical, he knew, but where once Oliver was the one spending stupid amounts on vodka and fulfilling the meaning of the word asinine now, he could barely tolerate those people.

The people and the lifestyle that their VIPs subscribed to had lost all its appeal and Oliver's pretty sure that the new generation had some grown worse since he was president of that particular club.

It had meant a shortened tolerance and, after punching one of their drunken patrons, they'd quickly decided Tommy was much better at the schmoozing than he was.

Tommy, as it turned out, had matured to but his tolerance of those they used to be lent more towards amusement than intolerance.

So, Tommy worked the patrons and Oliver dealt with the suppliers as they harmoniously co-managed the club.

"Good." Oliver says shortly, tossing the magnet in the air and catching it. He honestly can't help it when he scowls again, then Oliver finds himself staring as Tommy frowns and sits down into one of the chair opposite him.

"Okay, now you've got to tell me what's going on. You're scowling and playing with the adorable magnet again. Is it woman trouble? Tell me its woman trouble. It's been a slow news week."

Oliver stares at Tommy's question and the eagerness on the dark haired mans face as he talks. He can't actually remember Tommy being this enthusiastic about something to do with his life outside the club in a while.

Oliver's thinking of half a dozen excuses to get Tommy off his back when he suddenly wonders if his friend can help. He is in a long-term relationship with a woman Oliver's pretty sure he pisses off a lot.

He's seen Tommy in action, after all.

"What do you do when something goes badly and you want to fix it but don't know how?" Oliver asks slowly, watching in amusement as Tommy leans forward slightly.

"With a woman?" Tommy asks earnestly, his eyes alight with interest.

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Yes, badly with a woman."

"How badly?"

"Pretty badly."

"Allie Rhodes badly or Candace Hartly badly?"

"Neither. Connie Braxton badly."

Tommy winces.

Because they both remember how badly the Connie Braxton episode of his life had been. It hadn't been nearly as awkward as his morning, Oliver remembers, but it had been pretty close.

Felicity, at least, hadn't vomited from nerves.

"Give up?" Tommy says flippantly then seems to realize that wasn't the right thing to say when Oliver's gaze turns menacing. "Do you really like her?" He asks.

Oliver thinks about it for a second. "I could."

Because he really could.

She's funny and really smart and cute in a way Oliver had never really considered but now won't be able to get out of his head. Oliver knows enough about her to know all this and it's the knowing more than anything else that made the morning such a disappointment.

Because he really _could_ like Felicity.

"Ah. Right. No idea, man. No idea." Tommy nods and then adds. "When Laurel gets pissed at me, I just grovel a lot. Then we share a glass of wine and be mature about it and talk. Always works."

Oliver nods vaguely because Tommy's words have triggered something Felicity had said that morning and it's given him a somewhat hazy idea.

A little risky, too.

But it's an idea.

He just needs to find a bottle of red wine.

* * *

Felicity is still sulking by the time Caitlin leaves that night.

She can't help it.

The date had gone terribly, Oliver was gorgeous and she's just…so disappointed with how it had all gone down.

The notes had suggested that it wasn't going to be that awkward and yet, that's exactly what it was. It's frustrating and Felicity knows she's beginning to think in circle but she can't help it.

It was a really awful date.

Still, she can put on her pajamas and go to bed soon. She can sleep until Oliver comes home and she wakes up to the sound of his motorbike. Then be awake at the lonely hour of four am and think about how terribly the date had gone again.

Felicity's not entirely looking forward to this nighttime plan but what else is she going to do?

She's driving herself crazy thinking about her morning and she's tired, so she may as well get as much sleep as she possibly can, while she can.

Before that motorbike returns.

Almost as if on cue, a motorbike revs loudly below her apartment and Felicity jumps a foot in the air because she hadn't been expecting _that_.

Glancing at the clock, Felicity frowns when she sees that it's only a little past eight and Oliver's most definitely home _way_ earlier than he usually is.

It makes her curious and she's half considering writing a note to him to ask why before beginning to debate whether that's really a good idea or not when she jumps again at a loud knock on her door.

For a second, Felicity doesn't move.

She just stares at the door because surely somebody did _not_ knock on her door, right? She's pretty sure they didn't right up until someone knocks again.

It spurs her into movement as a third knock sounds and she walks quickly towards the door, determined to answer it and shoo this person away. It's definitely not Caitlin, Felicity knows, her friends generally just walk into her apartment.

A fourth knock sounds and Felicity yanks open the door, intent on telling the person knocking that _one_ knock is completely fine.

Only to come face to face with Oliver.

"Oh." Felicity squeaks and he offers her a tentative half smile.

"Hi." He says quietly and Felicity tries to force a smile.

She doesn't know if she succeeds but she _does_ manage to find her voice.

"Hi."

Oliver lifts a bottle of wine she didn't realize he was holding and offers it to her.

"I was wondering if you wanted to, maybe, start over?"

Felicity stares at him because, really? He really wants to start over? With her? After this morning? Really?

Felicity doesn't say that though. No, of course she doesn't. Instead, she forgets to think for half a second and blurts out.

"By getting drunk?"

Oliver looks startled at her words.

Felicity decides that yes, this day could have gotten a lot worse.

And it totally did.

* * *

See what I mean about lack of cooperation?

In my head, they were actually going to meet-cute with only a little spilled coffee, nervous babbling about being nervous and somebody finding someone completely adorable.

Obviously, that didn't happen. Except maybe a little bit of adorable somewhere in there. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter where they will be drinking the offered wine.

Hopefully it will be out much sooner than this chapter.

Thanks for reading!


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